Renewal
by OrderlyAnarchist
Summary: A Noxian in Ionia is good for one thing, and one thing only: Dying. That is why Riven cannot allow herself to be found, and that is why Irelia must find her. Yet there is a fine line between death and renewal, and it is so very very easy to cross it. Riven has never been very good at dying. -Series of chronological Rivelia shorts-
1. Search

She had not expected the rain. While she had no fancy hextech or magical apparatus to do so, Riven had always considered herself a fairly good judge of impending weather, and she'd taken the morning's overcast sky to be just that. She'd assumed the heavens would withhold their tears. Clearly it was too much to ask that the sky at least show mercy.

It wasn't that she couldn't handle the rain - shivering the heat out of her bones was not fun, but it was a struggle she could deal with - but her mental map of the Ionian countryside was already shit, and the pouring sheets of obscuring rain fucked it over completely. Still she trudged forward with confidence, weathered boots slogging through mud and mossy undergrowth, but doubts lingered. That she'd never once seen the cliff face she marched beside on any previous return to the abandoned farmstead she was calling home did nothing to reassure matters. Turning back however, would accomplish nothing but retrace a route she already knew to be wrong. So she moved forward.

She moved forward until the clouds dispersed and the rain died out and the sun illuminated the landscape like a sparkling woodland tapestry. And while Riven wouldn't deny it painted a pretty picture, she was still soaked and the temperature still freezing, and she'd never seen these flowering Ionian deciduous before. The ridgeline was still fixated on her left and behind her stood nothing familiar. Riven cursed. She moved forward.

Night fell fast, but Riven was undeterred. Wet and freezing, the nighttime chill could keep her eyes from opening if she ever dared to close them. The shadows obscured less than the rain had, and under the watchful gaze of a half-moon, Riven moved forward.

Light mingled with shadow in the mire of dawn when she found the scent and smoke. Fresh and acrid, it reeked of familiarity: the smoke of recent tragedy. The fog of death. She knew she should move forward - nothing good could come from interfering with Ionian affairs. Her heart turned her rightward and she followed the scent of sorrow into the woods.

Hidden amongst the trees, the human construct looked out of place even as it fell back to nature. Painted black by flames since stifled, the upperest reaches smouldered and smoked as they crumbled inwards. Smoke drifted freely despite the windless sky, ignorant of its nature - that a blaze that burned months ago could not do so still. An unnatural wound struck upon a nation. Stuck in time forever, unable - and unwilling - to heal. She should not move forward.

The interior of the scorched abode was blacker than blackened. Black ash fell from the ceiling, raining like ichor and choking out her vision. She sunk into the floor, flesh below her heart entombed by shifting sands of bone. Ghosts weighed her down, pushing her deeper into the skeletal quicksand. She could not turn - could not turn back. The way forward was clear.

At some point, bone became water. She hope it was water. It was too thick to be water.

The tide was up to her shoulders now, the water lapping at her neck. It reeked of copper and iron. The world was dark. Her eyes made out figures spawned from memory, false images to fabricate something shapeable in the depths of an unfathomable blackness. She could smell flesh burning and melting, the accompanying screams muted and distant, yet omnipresent. The only way was forward. Forward through the worst humanity had to offer, and the worst she had to offer humanity.

She coughed, spitting blood as she looked up from the transcendent blades impaling her again the cliffside, eyes flicking up to meet her ender's. The assassin's face was twisted into a pained grimace as her hands clawed streaks of blood into her forehead. Her vision narrowed as a different kind of blackness smothered her reality inwards until her eyes rolled upward, finally coming to rest on a single, twinkling star.

Serenity.

But no peace.

* * *

 _Trying something new. Expect many more short stories (as chapters) to follow, all chronological and moving forward from this point in time. Will only update on weekends until I'm done with my BMOQ course. Possibly more frequently after that ends (in 3-4 weeks). Will update at least once every weekend though, until it reaches its conclusion._


	2. Judge

When she awoke, Riven didn't let her eyes open. She could feel the throbbing pain in her chest from _something_ , and with her back plastered against something too soft to be the wilderness, and the temperature too moderated to be natural, she could draw only one conclusion.

Captured.

She did not know by whom. To the best of her knowledge, any group that would _want_ her dead had thought her dead after the melter barrage. And the fact that she wasn't dead to begin with… She couldn't think of anybody that might still desire her among the living, except maybe - no. She cut those ties. She tried shifting her limbs, hopefully lightly enough to avoid noticed, pausing when she realized they were unrestrained. It brought her pause. It forced her to consider that perhaps her captors might not be hostile? Opening her eyes, Riven attempted to pull herself up into a sitting po-

When she finally felt she had doused the liquid fire burning holes in her stomach, Riven inspected the afflicted flesh. Whomever had opted into not killing her certainly hadn't done so for lack of trying otherwise. The skin around her stomach was a mess of fresh scar tissue, and as best she could tell, somebody must have stabbed and twisted multiple times. Riven had always prided herself as hard to kill, but even she wasn't foolish enough to believe it was something her constitution could heal on its own. She now owed somebody her life, and experience had taught her that was never a pleasant favour to owe somebody.

Her eyes flicked over her surroundings, taking in the painted walls, clean floors, and simple furnishings. Even under such basic conditions, it held a distinctly Ionian feel, which she supposed should be a relief relative to it being Noxian, or - heavens forbid - Zaunite. After being stabbed to the point of inoperability, however, she held no thin hopes of some great mercy. She knew her crimes. She held no illusions that Ionia might have forgotten. She could see the scenario unfold in her mind.

A large crowd would be fathered in the placidium, eager for the news and justice their elders promised. It would be a solemn process. The Ionians weren't Noxian. They'd have the respect to not make a theatric out of it. It was still a means to the same end. One of the elders would speak to the gathered crowd - Karma perhaps, as she was the most beloved - and remind them of all they'd lost at the hands of the Noxian invasion. Of all the families shattered; all the history burned and friends buried. It would not be a speech to rile the crowd - the ceremony was not a demonstration. It was a solemn presentation of fact to prepare the people for quaint justice.

They would walk Riven to the front. She would be unbound, as though she were presenting herself to the nation of her own volition. They would let her preserve her dignity, and for that she would be greatful. There would be no risk of her escape. The wounds from before mean it was all she could do to hold herself up straight. They would be respectful of the solemnity of the procedure - and somehow - respectful of her rights as a human being.

Karma would stand beside her, meeting her gaze with those turquoise eyes that held no malice. She would speak softly, as though it were just the two of them, meeting privately with no quiet crowd behind them. It was the last mercy she could offer. "Riven," she would begin, a lilt of sadness colouring her tone. "the Ionian people have pressed upon you the charge of war crimes against the Ionian nation. How do you plead?"

She knew what she had done, of course. She remembered every temple burned and every village cut through, all in the name of some Noxian ideal Noxus herself no longer believed in. She would whisper, because as much as she accepted it, it still hurt to believe it. She would whisper the words she had been instructed to say, repeating "guilty," with a pause, and then: "of all charges."

Karma would offer her that same sad smile before saying: "Riven, commander of Fury Company" and that wasn't right because Fury Company was all dead and she could no longer be its commander, but she couldn't speak out because that was not how it was supposed to go. "For the destruction of historical artifacts and national treasures, and the attempted ethnic cleansing of the Ionian population, you have forfeit your life to the Ionian people. Today we are still recovering from the severe wounds you and yours inflicted upon us. So it is that we turn to the greatest sentence we can offer you -"

"Forgiveness." Riven snapped out of her reverie as her eyes looked to the source of the voice. Finally they found her, the raven-haired woman standing firmly in the entryway to the room. Everything about her posture oozed strength and power, and she bore an expression of what looked to be the utmost contempt for Riven's continued presence in the room. "Forgiveness is all we have to offer you." The detached way she spoke told Riven she didn't believe her own words. Riven didn't either.

"You may leave once you've healed, and continued to wander, or you may stay and try to learn. Either way, you have this nation's forgiveness." And Riven knew neither of them believed what the woman was saying, so she had to ask:

"Why?"

"Because killing you and ending your suffering would be a mercy you don't deserve." She hissed that with conviction. That, Riven could believe.

"Your healer will return tomorrow. Do not hesitate to call if you need anything." It was an empty offer. Riven knew _she_ knew that Riven would not ask for anything.

It was appreciated nonetheless.


	3. Recover

Riven recognized her, sort of. She couldn't place a name to her, but the way she so blatantly wore her strength on her shoulders told Riven she was someone important, and she swore she recognized her from High Command's kill on sight list. The skin that seemed paler than a ghost wasn't a feature Riven could claim to be familiar with, but she only had to think to her own eyes now stained crimson to remember all the ways the new Noxian brand of warfare could twist people. Riven felt she _should_ recognize her, and it drove her to the edges of frustration that she couldn't, because she _needed_ to know who the woman was. What person could hate her so purely yet continue their work to ensure Riven's own recovery? Riven knew that if she could observe her long enough something would come to her, but the Ionian never stayed long enough for Riven to place anything, and Riven knew she wouldn't answer anything if asked.

Riven _could_ place the Starchild, when she drifted through the door (and drift was exactly the way to describe her motion, held up in a metaphorical state of aloftness by the pureness of the air around her). Unlike her host, Soraka cut a distinctly recognizable figure, both in terms of her physical appearance, and the very nature of her presence. Riven couldn't decide whether it was her equine, bowed legs or the strange horn-like protrusion extending from her forehead that was the most striking, but to Riven they were only truly worth a passing glance of acknowledgement. What commanded her attention was the raw sense of serenity Soraka exuded. Just being around her had Riven feeling more at peace than she could ever properly recall being, and despite knowing the sensation was purely artificial, she couldn't help but let her body relax. When Soraka offered her a gentle smile Riven didn't return it, but she offered the healer a nod of thanks.

When she spoke, her voice sounded surprisingly… normal. It was tinged with the slightest hint of divinity, but that Riven would have expected from any being of celestial descent. Given the circumstances of Soraka's existence, it really seemed quite natural. If she was honest with herself, Riven had actually expected Soraka's voice to echo from the heavens, with all the power of a goddess come to the world. The starchild chuckled, seemingly reading her mind.

"Alas, I am no goddess. How are you this morning?"

Riven looked up at her, before drawing her gaze downward to the patterns of scar tissue crisscrossing her chest. She looked back up. "Stabbed," she finally uttered, as though it wasn't the most obvious thing in the world. Soraka nodded, unperturbed by the dry remark. She stepped forward, and Riven flinched back as Soraka's aura crowded what little space Riven could claim to call her own. Awareness of necessity didn't breed comfort.

Soraka offered her an apologetic smile before placing her hand against the ruined flesh. Riven bit back a gasp - her hand was freezing to the touch - and for a brief moment Soraka's hand glowed. Then she removed it, and everything looked the same, but the ever present pain in her chest and stomach was less so. This time when Soraka spoke her voice seemed strained. "It will heal properly with time, though the scarring will remain. You just need time. You will remain under Miss Lito's care for the duration of that time."

The named struck another spark of recognition inside her, and Riven struggled to try and make family name to given.

"Irelia?" Soraka offered, knowingly.

And if Riven could have sat straight up she would have, because she recognized _that_ name, and _that_ name was not a name a Noxian should feel safe around. It made Riven wonder why she wasn't dead already. She considered the horridly disfigured flesh around her stomach.

Soraka, apparently sensing her discomfort, took the liberty of interjecting upon Riven's thoughts. "You _will_ be safe her. Though you might not know it, and she certainly doesn't understand it, she's reached an accord of sorts with you, even if she never shows it.

"I can _feel_ her hatred whenever she's in the room with me," Riven countered.

"She hates what you represent, or rather, what you once chose to represent. Noxus is a hatred that drives everything she is, several things she once was, and most likely many things she will be. It's one of Ionia's greatest tragedies, but it is not unwarranted. The entire Lito lineage was wiped out by Noxus in the war."

Riven cocked her head. "Except her?"

And at that moment the serenity faltered, and Riven shivered as she could _feel_ the starchild's sense of failure radiate through the room. "The _entire_ Lito lineage. The last one died valiantly, standing against Noxus in the placidium."

That didn't make any sense though, because Irelia was infamous for her stand against Noxus in the placid- Oh. She looked at Soraka sadly. "Noxus never seems to be able to let the best of us rest."

The starchild's expression was carefully blank. "Yes… Noxus…"

Whatever she was about to say next was cut off as the door swung open and Irelia stepped into the room. "Regaling our guest with stories of my demise, Soraka?" Irelia's voice was cutting, not bothering to hide its hostility, yet not breaching the boundary of respectfulness.

Soraka forced a neutral expression back onto her face, before turning to leave. "Nothing so dark, Irelia. I was simply acquainting Riven with her new surroundings." Irelia didn't answer, and soon the lingering aura of Soraka's presence followed her out the door, leaving Riven alone with the captain of the Ionian guard. Irelia glared at her. Riven held her gaze until the Ionian looked away.

"You will be safe here," Irelia muttered. "Anything you need will be provided."

"Why?"

Irelia laughed mirthlessly. "I live only at the star's behest. I owe them everything I am. This day, the stars have willed me to ensure your health. My own desires hold no sway over my actions." Irelia turned away from her. "If you need anything, _Noxian,_ do not hesitate to ask."

Then Irelia left, leaving Riven alone with her thoughts.


	4. Affirm

Slowly but surely, Riven began to feel less like she was dying. She still couldn't really move around, but she could sit up without ripping her body in half, which was a definite improvement over her state on arrival. Irelia, for her part, had done a perfectly fine job going through the motions of being an excellent host. Riven still felt immensely uncomfortable, being catered to by somebody she could _feel_ the hate resonating from, but she had to admire the strange sort of discipline required to be moderately pleasant to the target of one's hatred.

At Riven's request, the captain of the guard had retrieved several books on Ionian history - translated to Noxian no less - and Riven was doing her best to educate herself on the nation she was - for now at least - calling home. Literacy had never been her strongest suit, but any Noxian officer was required to reach a certain standard of competency, and despite her struggles, Riven had never minded the subject. It was difficult, stumbling her way through the older texts, but it was something to do at the very least.

Though she responded to anything Riven might want or need, Irelia had made it clear that she had no interest in interacting with Riven on any level beyond that. Such was why Riven had to stifle her double take reflex when Irelia entered the room on her own, a steaming cup of what must have been tea held delicately in one hand. Her face was expressionless, but after the briefest moment of hesitation, she offered the cup to Riven.

She'd never been one for tea, but she wasn't about to refuse an olive branch when it was offered to her. "Thank you," Riven said, accepting the fragrant beverage.

"It's medicinal," Irelia explained tersely. "Ideally, it should help you leave faster."

Riven stymied a chuckle. "I'm happy to know my health has become important to you." Irelia said nothing, and Riven raised an eyebrow when she realized the Ionian was peering intently at the opened pages of the book she held. "Yes?"

Irelia shook her head, looking away. "I find the idea of a Noxian exploring culture to be laughable."

Riven looked back to the book, her eyes wandering over the diverse plethora of glyphs and symbols that made up its passages. "A true Noxian appreciates the idea of blood under the glimmer of moonlight as surely as she appreciates the sight of it." It was a quote from an old instructor, and it seemed applicable.

Irelia grimaced. "Barbaric."

Riven shrugged. "It's an old saying. It is what it is."

Irelia turned to leave, but halted in the doorway. "I found you aimlessly wandering the Ionian countryside. The _sight_ of you impaled against a cliff and dying did not satisfy the way he idea had." She left before Riven could reply, leaving the Noxian more confused than anyting else. Riven looked down at her chest, where fresh scar tissue cut crosshatched patterns across untorn skin. Her fingers traced the scars, drawing circles around the ruined flesh. Four stab wounds.

A phantom chill raced down her spine.

The Ionian was gone now, but she called out anyway. "Why not leave me?"

Irelia didn't return to the room, but Riven could hear her answer echo down the hall. Barely. "It would have been a waste." A pause, then: "You were dying too slowly, and I needed my blades back."

It wasn't the truth; Riven was certain of that. She was fine with that though. The right to the truth was a privilege to be earned. That Irelia was willing to offer her an answer at all was a subtle respect Riven was content to hold on to. She had time. She didn't have the slightest idea why she felt she wanted or needed it, but the Ionian's full respect was something she could work towards.


	5. Assess

As a high ranking Noxian officer before the Ionian campaign, Riven had learned quickly that the obvious threats were not the dangerous ones. The battlefield was certainly not a safe place, but a screaming Demacian aiming to cleave you downwards with a broadsword was hardly a subtle threat. The threat posed by an archer plummeted when the sun glinted off his golden armour. If Riven could see it, she could overpower it. That was why she was a ranking officer in the first place, despite humble beginnings. Indeed, while the battlefield was not a safe place, it was also not a threat she considered dangerous. The true danger, Riven had quickly learned, was often much closer to home than it was to foe, and not nearly so direct. The shadows hid the ambitions of those who craved higher station, and a vacancy in the ranks was ever known to be an effective catalyst for promotion.

As a high ranking Noxian officer during the Ionian campaign, Riven had been heavily briefed on the threat posed by the Ionian's unique warfare tactics. Guerilla warfare was not unknown to Noxus, but it was not familiar either, and the Ionian's method of target selection had quickly proven itself to be effective. Beyond tactics, reports of CO's and flag officers vanishing overnight lent credence to claims of some sort of Ionian shadow operation, prioritizing leadership figures to stall the Noxian advance, and this too Riven identified as a true danger. Reacting as she would to any other threat to her operation, Riven took the necessary steps to ensure she would not be caught unawares by the subtler elements of Ionian warfare. The scar across her neck that wasn't a hole in her throat was a prideful reminder of that fact.

With the experience of having once been a high ranking Noxian officer carrying over to the months after the conflict, Riven still possessed the skill that every high ranking Officer worth their rank first developed: she was a _very_ light sleeper.

Her eyes shot open.

Her mind worked to analyzed the threat even as her body moved, scouring sensory input for any hint that might offer an edge. Staggered footfalls indicated more than one operative - the presence of footfall sound alone indicated poor training or heavy armour - possibly and probably both. She could make out whispered dialogue as human fingers brushed against a window pane, searching for leverage, and she quickly forced herself to roll off her maress. She bit back a grunt of pain as she landed in a crouch, chest flaring up in agony as it cried out against the sudden stress. The aggressors were certainly not subtle, and she had to wonder who - if anybody had - would reach out to such incompetent resources for help. Keeping to the shadows the moon cast into the room, Riven crept across the outer rim of the room, teeth clenched in a pained grimace as her body protested the act of movement. Positioning herself beneath the offending window, Riven caught snippets of an impatient sounding argument. The rattling of the window ceased for a moment, only to be replaced by the tinkling of shattered glass as her 'assailants' opted for the brute force method of entry. Riven had to resist the urge to simply run out and slap the assassin for his incompetence. Though she'd been quite certain before, the act cemented her belief that the two were mere Noxian deserters, taking up mercenary work to make ends meet in their new foreign home. Their methodology indicated a marked lack of familiarity beyond anything not labeled open warfare.

She waited for one of the mercs to step through their impromptu entry point and - fuck's sake, he didn't even _check_ the room before entering - quickly sprung into action as the first leg swung through. Her chest screamed, but Riven ignored it as she lunged forward, pulling the noxian through the window and then down head first from his half perch in the window, driving his face into the ground with a sickening crunch. She heard a startled string of curses from the outside, and saw another leg start to swing over the window frame before freezing abruptly. Riven fought the fire filling her veins to look up, and took in the sight of the mercenary, now with two shards of finely honed Ionian steel lodged in his throat. He gurgled pitifully before tumbling backwards out the window. The last thing Riven saw before she let the first lull her back to sleep was a thoroughly disinterested Irelia hefting her none-too-gently atop her mattress and pulling back over the covers.


	6. Wonder

_I know I missed last week's update, and I'm terribly sorry about that. I've been on vacation with the family, and haven't had a ton of time to get things published. I'm still away so I can't give you guys an extra large update to make up for it, but hopefully some !ContemplativeRiven is enough to tide you all over. Thanks for sticking with me._

* * *

Irelia wasn't always the way she is now. Nobody's explicitly told her such, and Riven certainly wasn't around before the invasion to know, but she knows. She can see it in her eyes; she can sense it in the Ionian's aura: the remnants of another person. If she put those remnants together, she might find a younger, fiery Irelia, fueled by emotion and tempered by a respect for all life. She might find an Irelia willing to set aside old grudges for the sake of building a better future.

She might find a dead Irelia.

Riven has no desire to put that Irelia back together. That Irelia was too naïve – too warm. That Irelia died. She wonders though, if Irelia can even remember. She wonders if Irelia can remember the strength she had before Noxian steel demanded she shed it for cold fury. She wonders, because she knows Irelia can see a broken _her,_ and Riven certainly can't remember _her_ old strength. She knows she was strong – stronger than all the others who'd faltered and died, but she can't remember why. What had driven her to become stronger than the rest, and to survive where every other living being in that damnable valley died? She wonders if Irelia knew what had driven her then. She wonders if Irelia knows what drives her now?

She knows Irelia can see the remnants of _her,_ but does the Ionian care? Does Irelia wonder about a Riven from the past that was more than a broken sword hiding from a broken home? Or does she just see another Noxian, too stubborn to die on her own and not worth the honour of dying by Irelia's blades? Riven likes to think there's a sort of commonality between the two of them, from one broken person to another. A tether far too fragile to be called a bond, but substantial enough that what's between them now could be anything other than hate.

She often wonders about hate.

Riven has never hated Ionia, yet she struck down hundreds of its sons and daughters without blinking an eye. Irelia's hate for Noxus overshadows her very soul, and yet she nurses Riven back to health in her own home. She can't tell if that's incredible strength, or tremendous weakness, but she thinks it might be neither.

She wonders if Irelia still hates her, or if her despise has tempered with time and their own limited interaction. Despite all Irelia's threatened her with, Riven already respected her, and she's grown to appreciate the cold-mannered Ionian as well. There's a depth to her – a depth Riven feels she can uniquely appreciate, and though she's not truly certain why, a particular craving to explore it. She wants to learn about that old Irelia, and understand how she became this Irelia. She wants to know what drives the Ionian forward, when so much of what she once was is lost to tragedy. She wants to know why Irelia can move forward and stay strong when she can't.

She doesn't want Irelia to hate her. Riven's not sure why, but she _is_ sure of that.


	7. Understand

For the first time in far too long, Riven felt no pain. She stood beside the bed her injuries had effectively confined her to for the last month, her right hand hovering over but not actually leaning upon the front left cornerpost. For now at least, she could support herself independently, if somewhat unsteadily. Soraka stood a few meters ahead of her, a gentle and very real smile shaping her expression as she faced towards Riven.

"No pain?" the healer asked, and Riven could feel her gaze probing for even the slightest tinge of deception.

"None," Riven replied, honestly.

Soraka looked her over again, a neutral expression returning to her features as her eyes became unreadable. "Can you try walking?" she asked, after a short pause.

Riven nodded, turning herself slightly to align herself with the closest wall as she stepped off into a slow lap around the outside of her current quarters. Her legs wavered beneath her, though it was moreso from the past month of disuse then it was from any lingering pain or damage. She _did_ have to resist the temptation to steady herself against the wall at several points, and her pace was frustratingly slow relative to her own expectations, but beyond her own mental barriers, the task proved to be no real challenge, and by the time she returned to her starting point, Soraka seemed happier with her progress than she was.

… And Riven was trying very hard to keep the satisfaction from making itself visible across her own features.

Soraka shook her head. "Were you anybody else I'd say you should've needed three months to recover - if you were to recover at all. You are an incredibly strong person, Riven."

And while Riven wasn't sure if she believed _that_ \- right now, at least - she still brought her arms in tight to her body, tilting her head forward and offering the Ionian healer a clumsy but sincere bow of respect. "Thank you."

Soraka returned the gesture, though with an order of magnitude more grace, Riven was chagrinned to note. "You are very welcome," the celestine replied. "If you need anything else, my door will be open to you. Otherwise, I leave you to regain your strength under your own power and force of will. I do not doubt you are more than capable."

"Of course." Even in her current state, Riven would have no problems surviving on her own. Even in her earliest memories, Riven had managed to scrape by. Even when she'd been a weak, pathetic wretch that couldn't hope to lift a longsword, let alone the monolith earned by her commission, she'd _always_ managed to survive. _On her own…_ The words tasted, strange, foreign… Familiar and alien all the same. As long as she could remember, Riven had been on her own, but it seemed that recently, the words had taken on new meaning. Truthfully, she'd almost let herself forget in her time under Irelia's care, those weeks after weeks of dredging her way through life with only her own self-deprecating personality and scorched Ionian woodland for company. They weren't fond memories by any stretch of the imagination, and while Irelia was not pleasant company by even the most relaxed standards, she was still company, and Soraka too during her checkups had proven to be an amiable source of conversation regarding anything Riven wished to know about Ionia. Despite everything between their nations, the starchild had been kinder to Riven than anybody else the exile had ever met before, even at the peak of her military career, and her mere presence over the weeks had served to visit Riven with a newfound feeling of inner peace she couldn't recall ever before knowing.

Still she couldn't deny that when the time came - if it hadn't come already - it was Irelia that she would miss more. For everything the frigid Ionian was, Riven couldn't help but look upon her as an equal, one whose respect Riven could not earn through title or reputation. Respect that she could earn only through the deeds she wrought in Irelia's presence. Irelia was a fair comparison - an individual Riven could gauge herself against as she renewed and reconstructed her purpose as one of the last remaining daughters of Noxus - the true, pure Noxus drowning under the weight of Swain's Zaun-fueled contamination.

She made Riven think, too. With every cutting remark and scathing criticism, Irelia challenged the very foundations of the principles Riven lived by, forcing her to reflect upon and reexamine views that she'd held unchallenged since her earliest days of service, exploring the possibilities of perspectives that ran adjacent, askew, and even contrary to her own. Ultimately, the code of strength she lived, breathed, and bled by continued to win out, but the act of challenging it brought Riven a new understanding of why that Noxian strength was so very _right,_ and she could _know_ that it was Noxus's code twisted awry, and not her own. It was knowledge that brought Riven a measure of peace missing since Zaun shattered her in the depths of Coeur Valley. Knowledge that Irelia had gifted her inadvertently in her attempts to dismantle everything Riven stood for.

Riven knew that they were more akin than the captain of the guard would ever admit.

And just like that, Riven _understands._


	8. Confront

The idea stemmed from one of the old tomes on Ionian culture Soraka had dropped off during one of her last checkups. Dated from before the popularization of the type-set printing press, the tome was an old leather thing, hundreds of hand-penned pages each decorated with exquisitely inked out images and dozens of lines of intricate Ionian cursive sandwiched between the weathered covers. It detailed the rituals and traditions of the Ionian monk caste, which had seemingly changed very little since the orders inception. Reading the manuscript at a comprehensive level was a grinding effort, often tearing up to a quarter of an hour of Riven's time away with a single page. Under normal circumstances, Riven would never have wasted her time. What with her being capable of very little at the time, and very little for her to do even if she _was_ capable, she'd taken the challenge to be the best use of her time available.

She found herself staring down the rear cover several weeks later, and though her conquest of the tome's pages felt moderately satisfying, she hadn't found much to take away from their content. It was interesting, yes, but for Riven, it was of little actual use- at the time, anyway. Over the remainder of her bedridden weeks, she'd found her mind wandering more often than not to the old tome she'd sunk so much of her time into. The concept of inner peace had been prevalent within its pages, the tome detailing the various techniques and methods the monks employed to attain it. The art of meditation came up often.

The tome sketched in lengthy detail the many intricacies of meditation, but they always looped back to the key pillar on which the art of meditation rested: that if you could expand your mind to become one with the world around you, then the natural peace of the world would smother the manifested chaos the human mind conjured. And though Riven had been hard-pressed to contain her skepticism when the concept was first introduced to her, a stolen glimpse of Soraka under a midnight field had thoroughly convinced her that – for some, at least – the concept was very real.

'Some' being the critical point.

Riven had seen Irelia's attempts on several occasions. With her brow furrowed and face drawn into sharp angles, the Ionian looked anything but at peace. And if the captain of the Ionian guard couldn't manage it, than what hope did she have?

It was something to think on.

She thinks on it much more than she thinks she should. She can't understand how meditation makes one one with the world around them; it is one of those very Ionian concepts she _knows_ she'll never get. But it's still an intriguing idea, and it's one that makes Riven thinks. And when Riven thinks, she _solves_. Because while the Ionian idea of peace is a strange and foreign one, it is intently, desirably, tantalizingly foreign, and Riven knows that more than anything else, she can't help but _want_ it. She knows she can't find it, and it certainly won't find her, but that's perfectly okay because Riven is Noxian – True Noxian – and when a Noxian seeks their desire they fight for their desire.

And what better way to become one with the world around you then to fight in it?

So it was that Riven found herself in the same field she'd once caught a glimpse of the starchild in, many nights ago. She stood in roughly the same place, as pest her memory could pinpoint it, eyes turned upwards towards a waning crescent moon. The remnants of the Noxian plate she once wore with honour adorned her body, armouring her with little more than the comfort of familiarity. One oversized shoulder pauldron mourned its brother's loss, always tugging Riven towards the earth to reunite what was lost in the depths of Coeur. It was counterbalanced only by Riven's own force of will and a lonely runestone gauntlet loosely clasped about the hilt of an even lonelier blade.

Riven breathed in. She had never explicitly asked Irelia if she was permitted to take back what remained of her Noxian armaments, but her kit had hardly been hidden, resting atop a deck in the Ionian's living room, and Riven was far more inclined to ask forgiveness than she was permission.

She thinks Irelia would understand anyway.

She exhaled and pulled her shattered sword from the earth, holding it upright and steady between her eyes, cleaving her vision of the world in two. The open field stretched around her, extending hundreds of meters before walls of trees rose from the earth to box the flatland in. The shadows of the front rank of arbor guardians crept towards her, moonlight casting their twisted mirrors further and further across the ground as it continued its descending arc to the furthest end of the sky. The spectre of the tallest deciduous peaked mere millimetres before her feet, growing at a glaciers pace as the moon fed it slow life, and when the arbor ghost finally met with her flesh…

Riven moved.

Her right foot shifted back, pivoting as her arm dragged her sword horizontally in the same direction, cutting a swift arc through the air and cleaving an imaginary assailant in two. She completed the 180 degree rotation, then stepped forward with her left foot as her sword came overhead and down in a lethal overhead chop. She followed through on the attack, flipping the pommel in her hand and resetting the blade to once again face upward. Riven grinned. Her shoulders were burning already.

She exploded upwards, blade slicing left and up to carve through a ghost at her side then parry an invisible strike at her neck as she extended her follow the full distance. She pivoted again, catching the ghost's weapon in the broken portion of her own and wrenching it from the spectres hand before impaling it with the shattered tip. The extra weight hindered her for a moment, and Riven released her grip on the runesword for the briefest of seconds before regripping it with her unarmoured hand as her oversized gauntlet shot back behind her to catch the knife yearning for her back. Her own blade lurched to her new front and she gripped with two hands as she absorbed a vicious axe swing with the flat of the blade. She let the force of the blow push her down, and converted the momentum into a backwards tumble that narrowly avoided a pair of spinning axes angled to take her head off.

Crouched upright once more, she caught a pair of acidic barbs on her runestone, deflecting them towards the ground while lingering rune magic worked to dispel the projectiles corrosive properties. She found a lull, and her eyes scanned the canopy covered horizon.

It wasn't so quiet.

A decimating smash would have crushed her where she stood, and Riven was forced to drape her soul over her shoulders to withstand the blow. Even so she grimaced as the weight of a titan pressed her remnants harshly into her grip. Had valor not thrown her aside, the roar of challenge that followed might've slain her on the spot. Her adversary towered above her, gripping a kingslayer larger than she was, armoured with death-grey-toned impenetrable flesh.

Riven's limbs ached, and her breathing came to her only in laboured gasps. Her runesword, shattered and unwhole as it was, wavered in her grasp. Riven stared the spectre down, though its featureless gaze was unfaltering. Then she bowed her head in submission, letting the tip of her fragments drop to the ground, digging into the damp earth. She closed her eyes, dispelling the ghost, and stood quietly for several long moments, leaning on her memories as she let her body recover from the bout of exertion. The demon loosed a war cry as it faded, and then the ghosts were gone and the field was still quiet.

Eventually Riven made the short trek back to Irelia's home, blade dragging in the ground. The tip carved a shaky line all the way back to the treescape.

Atop the branches of an old oak at the furthest end of the clearing, Irelia's steel quivered.

* * *

 _Should be back on track now._


	9. Vindicate

_For all those who've been hoping for the shipping aspect of this story to actually happen/go somewhere, you might find this chapter mildly satisfying_

* * *

She fought ghosts biweekly. It was always difficult' the strain of working muscles dormant from disuse was hardly pleasant to work fight through. She grew stronger with practice, but her ghosts matched her blow for blow, and she always found herself subservient, yielding to power she couldn't challenge. Paradoxically, the unwinnable battles only drove her to fight harder, rebuilding decayed power and might and earning back years of battle sense and experience.

One day, Riven did not fight ghosts. Irelia stood in the centre of the meadow, soul-steel dancing in the early morning mist. Daybreak crested the canopy, and Irelia's spirit burned for a moment with all the fury and radiance of the sun cleansing the earth. Then Irelia turned to face her and old clouds muffled the sun's dazzling glare. Her soul hovered behind her, adamant and unyielding. Riven cocked her head, meeting the Ionian's gaze and letting the unspoken question drift. Irelia's expression hardened.

"I fought Noxian armies and they died like at vermin at my feet. I trust her leaders are less pitiful?" In earlier days, Riven might have taken offense from Irelia's tone and curt dismissal, but Irelia did not know Noxus ‒ did not know her as she was before Swain's taint, just as Riven had not known Ionia before Zaun's fire, and so she could not fault her. She could not fault her, but weak as she was now - by Irelia's will no less! - Riven could still show her.

So it was that she felt for Noxus slung over her shoulder, dragging the last remnants of a once proud nation out of her ragged and tattered sheath of leather, broken and unwhole but true and real, and bore the cutting-flag before her in a battle-ready posture, hard set determination blazing in her eyes. Irelia's soul flickered, and old war was renewed.

Irelia crashed the weight of her world down on Riven's shoulders, the Noxian staggering as the caught the Ionian's vicious descent and turned it away with the flat of her blade. Broken wings pulled Riven aside as Irelia surged forward, and the lingering remnants of rune magic the lurked in the Noxian stone amplified her own strikes, forcing a break in Irelia's hiten style assault as she built space up in between them. Irelia was dauntless. A ringing strike was parried, but the aftershocks trapped Riven briefly in equilibrium and it was all her dazed arms could do to carry her blade up and turn Irelia's next blow aside. Under the duress of the storm, Riven was hard pressed to hold her ground. Wings kept Irelia at bay ‒ for now ‒ but she was set firmly on the defensive.

She didn't like it. Riven was wearing out fast under the weight of Irelia's power and the slight trembles wracking her frame were disgustingly noticeable. There was no honour to be lost in yielding this battle ‒ not when it was Irelia standing against her.

Riven was hardly one to lay over and die. Irelia didn't know Noxus as she truly was; Irelia had never fought a Noxian, for the pathetic lackeys that served Swain's cause didn't even deserve the first syllable in the name. But if Riven couldn't challenge her here and now then she would be no better. Riven _was_ better.

 _Much_ better.

Her blade didn't stop Irelia's next strike, and soul-steel descended unimpeded. But where edge would cut flesh, Riven was quite simply not there. Ki blew her soul outwards, pushing Irelia off balance as valour carried Riven inside the Ionian's most effective range. Her runeblade cleaved downward, and a resounding clash told of Irelia's blade being forced to stop her own for the very first time this fight. Riven grinned and let her momentum carry her forward. A leftward swipe forced Irelia back, and Riven used the newfound space to dash forward and deliver a vicious right slash, forcing Irelia's soul down in an awkward parry position. It left the Ionian painfully exposed, and Riven capitalized. She _soared_ up and forward, and following through on her last attack runestone arced up and over before crashing back down to earth in a devastating smash.

She felt the steel against her back before her eyes even registered that Irelia was gone, metallic coldness that spoke of a battle lost and a life forfeit. Riven couldn't help herself.

She laughed. Riven laughed, low and quietly at first, but it quickly evolved into full blown peals of ringing laughter. She felt the cold chill of steel fade as Irelia backed away.

For close to a minute, the clearing was silent but for the sound of Riven's laughter. Then that too faded, and the peace of dawn returned. Riven wasn't certain how long she stood there after that, simply observing the creeping sunrise. There was something cleansing about the act of watching the sun continue its dauntless journey over the horizon, no matter how terrible the day, fulfilling always its duty and shedding its light on the waking world. Irelia broke the moment.

"I don't understand."

"You won."

"I understand that."

Riven continued to watch the sunrise.

"What was amusing about your loss?"

"Nothing."

"You laughed!"

"I did."

Only the tiniest fraction of the sun still hid below the horizon.

"Why?"

"I was satisfied."

The sun broke free of the horizon.

"Why?"

Several drops of rain splashed against Riven's face.

"I haven't lost in a very long time ‒ not since training, so long ago. It satisfies me to know the first duel I truly lost was fair and honourable, and to an opponent worthy of my respect."

"I can't understand that."

"I wouldn't expect you to."

The rain was starting to fall hard now, and Riven could feel the hilt of her blade slipping from her grasp. It thudded to the ground, and Riven dropped to a knee, determined not to follow it. Recovering as she was, Irelia had taken everything out of her. It took a pale hand coming to rest on her shoulder for Riven to realize Irelia was beside her, and Riven looked up to meet her eyes.

"You're fine."

Riven could appreciate the way she said that, frank as she always was. It was one of the things Riven liked most about Irelia. She never asked if you were alright, or asked if you were ready. You simply were. It was refreshingly familiar directness.

Still, it was sometimes not wholly accurate.

"I am," Riven agreed. "I made need help getting back though."

"You can't walk?" Irelia asked?

"I can," Riven assured her. "With help."

Irelia sighed, and Riven watched warily as Irelia's blades drifted downward to hover underneath her arm.

"Lean on this," the Ionian instructed. "I'll carry your oversized rock for you."

Riven did so and immediately felt the blade shift to support her weight. Irelia reached to pick up Riven's own weapon, and Riven had to suppress a jolt of… something… as the rain-slicked Ionian bent forward, raven hair plastered against her neck, clothes clinging tightly to her body, then bit back a muffled snicker when the blade didn't move at Irelia's first tug. She managed it the second time, though she seemed unable to suppress a grunt of exertion.

"Thank you," Riven said.

Irelia looked up at the grey sky. "There will be lightning soon. Let's get you back h- to my home."

Riven nodded, and the two trudged off into the woodland.

* * *

 _You might find next chapter to be actually satisfying, too._


	10. Reconstruct

_I mean, I did promise shipping_

* * *

There came a day where Riven did not wake up stilted. The sunrise was accompanied by a resonating clarity of body and mind - togetherness she'd not felt in months. For so many moons stiffness and tension had lodged themselves in her flesh and blood, obstructing free movement, hindering her expression of arms. Skirmishing Irelia exposed it, punished her for it. Every time their steel clashed, Riven suffered for it. To Riven it was much akin to those very first days of combat training so many forgotten years ago, and like her basic, Riven grew st

ronger rapidly. Dulled blows worked the stiffness from her limbs as her reflexes were forced back to old standards by Irelia's dance of blades. Finally above all, in striving to meet Irelia's standards of power, Riven found a cause to devote herself too. Not a noble cause, larger than herself as Noxus had once been, but a cause nonetheless.

That day when Irelia came to her Riven was not in the clearing and their steel did not cross. That day when Irelia came to her it was with an offer Riven couldn't rightly refuse. The next day Riven would step away from Irelia's home, the captain beside her – but that was still yet to come.

Riven's back was to the door when she heard it whisper open. She didn't hear Irelia enter, but that only served to assure her that it _was_ Irelia who entered, and Riven allowed herself to relax a bit as she continued stretching her muscles, searching for any source of lingering tension while she waited for the Ionian to speak up.

After several moments of waiting, Riven had twice ascertained that no, there was no hidden stress she hadn't noticed during her first self-examination, and no, Irelia still hadn't spoken up. Riven, quite frankly, wasn't a 'waiting' person. She turned to face the Ionian and just barely managed to catch her eyes snapping up to meet her own. Irelia coughed, and Riven retraced the Ionian's gaze downward.

 _Oh._

She was quickly graced with the realization that no, she was not wearing any clothing, and yes, Irelia had been staring at her ass. Irelia coughed again and Riven met her eyes.

"Oh. Should I…?" she gestured at her body vaguely.

"Yes." Riven couldn't be certain, but she thought she heard the slightest of wavers in Irelia's voice. "Yes you should."

She turned back around, her gaze falling upon the Ionian garments laid out at the foot of her bed. She bent over to grab the tunic and quickly realized she had yet to hear the door's whisper.

"Are you-"

The door slammed shut and Riven finally allowed a blush to stretch across her cheeks. She wasn't delusional enough to think Irelia's lapse was anything other than that (even in their bouts the Ionian's dislike of her was still evident). Still, there was something empowering about the idea that a woman as strong as Irelia - and Ionian no less - could still desire her in some sense. She thought she'd given that up when she signed her life to Noxus.

There was nothing to gain by dwelling on the moment though, so Riven pushed it out of her mind and quickly donned the garments set out for her. She checked herself in the mirror briefly before she stepped out to meet Irelia, and thought the Ionian clothes didn't particularly suit her, they fit well enough, and Riven almost wondered what Irelia wouldn't think of them before she caught herself and didn't. Irelia would think a Noxian shouldn't be wearing Ionian clothing and then grudgingly not say anything about it.

So Riven stepped away from the mirror and her reflection and stepped out to meet Irelia.

"Do you want to leave?" Irelia asked before Riven had even pulled the door shut. It was difficult for Riven to answer, because she hadn't expected Irelia to ever asked that as a question - she'd always envisioned the question more in the form of four sword tips forcefully guiding her out of the building and slamming the door in her face - and even if she had expected it, Riven didn't really know how to answer it. It was true that she'd like to leave Irelia's home, yes… But she'd also like to return to it if she was being honest. Weak as she was, and ill-advised as it was, she'd allowed herself to grow attached to the Ionian's home (and its inhabitant?).

"I don't know." Riven hesitated, and then settled with trying to sound political. "I don't think I'd like to leave forever."

"If you leave with me you could come back with me," Irelia assured her.

"Then yes."

Irelia glanced out into the surround woodland for a moment before setting her eyes back onto Riven. "Gather your arms then; we leave in one hour's time." Then the Ionian turned to leave, but paused briefly and said: "White and green looks better on you." Then she continued on her way.

Riven didn't know why Irelia would wish she bear arms into the Ionian countryside, but if it provided her an opportunity to once again turn her weapons to a cause, she would owe the Ionian much. She made the brief journey to the room that was hers in silence and glanced at her blade leaning against the doorframe and the remnants of her Noxian wargarb piled in the corner. Pausing for only a moment, Riven thought, then grasped the hilt of her old runesword before stepping off to gather other necessary supplies. She left the Noxian armour where it lay and glanced back briefly towards the mirror.

White and green _didn't_ look awful on her.

* * *

 _Thanks to all the people who messaged me with death threats to inspire completion. I'll publish more soon (the lack of trademark means it really will be soon, too)_


	11. Shatter

_So I was thinking I should finally start pushing these two together…_

* * *

"We're going to a small village," Irelia said once they were on their way. "A half day's travel north of here."

"Why?" Riven asked.

"Travelling group of merchants stopped there yesterday morning. Found the villagers slaughtered to a person. They had a scholar with them who said all signs point to a wyvern."

"We're going to kill it?"

Irelia hesitated for a moment, before admitting: "Yes, we're going to kill it."

Riven didn't hide the way the idea set her blood pumping, nor did she try to hide the faint smile that crossed her features at the thought of turning her blade to an actual cause. The smile didn't linger though. Something about the information Irelia was giving didn't sit right with her. She'd read up a bit on Ionian wyverns when she'd had nothing else to do, and if she remembered correctly…

"Aren't your wyverns sacred?"

Irelia said nothing, and Riven took that as enough of an answer. She chose not to press the Ionian for a real answer though, and wracked her mind instead for what she knew about the wyverns. She'd read up on the key ideas of Ionian culture during her recovery period to avoid offending Irelia beyond her continued presence in the Ionian's life, and the wyvern had been surprisingly prevalent. From what she remembered, it had been the ferocity of the wyverns against foreign pirates and raiders in the north infringing upon wyvern territory that had established a supreme Ionian respect for the creatures, and that respect had equated to a respect for and subsequent non-development of the wyvern territories. There was also some nonsense about the wyvern as an embodiment of living balance, but Riven didn't consider that as important as the fact that wyvern's had an earned reputation of non-hostility and even protection of the Ionian people, and that Ionian law mandated that it was forbidden to hunt the creatures.

Riven wasn't sure how she felt about that. "Is this going to put me on trial?" she had to ask.

Irelia didn't even look at her as she kicked her mount forward. "War crimes didn't put you on trial." The sudden hostility in Irelia's voice drove a sharp spike through her and she wasn't sure why. She sped her own mount up to place her back alongside Irelia as she tried to backtrack the conversation.

"You know I'll follow you regardless? I owe you and much and I won't allow a debt to go unforgotten. But I'd like to be prepared for the consequences."

"There will be nobody there to accuse us. Nobody knows we're going and everybody there is dead. I lied about the merchants and the scholar. What I know about the attack I learned from a child as he bled to death in my doorstep."

"Why lie?"

"Would you still follow me if I told you I was acting on the manic ramblings of a dying child?"

"Yes." It was amazing how certain she actually was of that.

Irelia was quiet for a moment. "Then you are a fool," she finally condemned, "and it no longer surprises me that your company died around you."

Riven physically reeled as Irelia's words struck at her like venom. Voices she'd suppressed long ago crept back to the forefront of her mind.

 _"She's right, Commander."_

 _"You killed us!"_

 _"You killed us all…"_

Riven shook her head viciously as the world seemed to tilt around her.

 _"You called for a stop."_

 _"You signalled for_ help _."_

 _"You_ drowned _us in_ acid _."_

"I didn't!"

" _You killed us commander! You might not have pulled swung the blade, but it was_ your _call!"_

 _"We died for you…"_

 _"We died for you… Riven."_

 _Riven_

 _Riven_

 _Riven Riven_

 _Riven_

 _Riven_

 _Riven_

"Riven!"

The first thing Riven saw as she regained her grip on the world was Irelia's face immediately in front of her. Several lines marred the Ionian's cheeks and it looked as though she might've been crying. Riven met the Ionian's gaze, then balled a fist and struck Irelia in the nose with all the force she could muster. The Ionian staggered backwards and Riven pulled herself up and away from the tree she'd apparently had her back to. It didn't sound like she'd broken it, but from the way Irelia was clutching at her face it was definitely bleeding.

"You're right," Riven spat. "I am a fool. I was willing to follow somebody who couldn't even keep their own brother from dying."

Riven turned her back on Irelia as she let the venom roll of her tongue. She didn't need to see her to know the words hurt.

"You dare…" Irelia hissed, voice distorted by the hand attempting to stem the bleeding from her nose. It might've been comical if Riven didn't feel compelled to break her.

"I dare?" Riven demanded. "How about you dare? Your brother died in agony on board a prison ship crying for you to save him while you _dare_ to call yourself the captain of the fucking guard!"

"You lie."

"Do I?" Riven snarled. "How could you know when you weren't there?"

Riven grinned as she was rewarded with silence, and then… footsteps? She spun just in time to catch the fist that would've caught her in the throat with her left hand. Irelia swung for a second blow and Riven caught that with her right. Riven smirked. Irelia may well be the stronger of them, but in a contest of raw physical power…

"Is that all?"

She had just enough time to register the hiss of surging steel before the dull centerpiece of Irelia's blades brought her world to black."

* * *

 _…But then I thought: "How about no?"_


	12. Reflect

_Something brief._

* * *

"She was a beautiful home, wasn't she?"

Riven stood at the top of one of the many foothills leading to Noxus proper. Her gaze was turned upwards towards the capital, towards the skull formed of mountain and the lights of the city that worked their way up from its base. The sun was setting, entrenched behind the foreboding mountain, and it seemed to set the air around the skull ablaze in an aura of burning hellfire. More lights were coming on in the city itself as natural light took its leave from the world.

"She still can be."

The city wouldn't sleep with the advent of nightfall; many Noxians preferred to operate under the veil of darkness when the shadows were available in abundance. Assassination, thievery, and other unsavoury forms of politics always reached their prime after sunset, and really the only thing worth doing in the daytime was shopping at the market, if only because one was somewhat less likely to have their purse cut under the light of the sun than the moon.

"Will she though?"

Riven felt her gaze turn west, as if guided by rails, until the distant shape of towering buildings stuck up on the horizon. The clear sky clouded ominously around it, a layer of smog composed of gods know what chemicals and arcana drowning the cityscape in toxins and mana. A trail of specks embarked from the city, kicking up dust as what could only be a trade convoy power on eastward. Her gaze drifted back to Noxus, and the open city gates that waited expectantly.

Riven let out a harsh sigh. "Not as she is." She looked towards her companion, whose shoulders sagged as he turned his own gaze away from their once-homeland.

"Not as she is," he agreed. "So what are you going to do."

Riven looked away.

"We didn't die for you, _Riven._ You were just stronger."

"You never called me by name before."

The man laughed. "What can I say? Ranks don't seem so important once you're dead. You're not my commander anymore. You're somebody else, the last of us. Make something of it. Kill some fuckers."

A grin teased at Riven's features, but when she looked back towards her companion she was alone on the hill. The Zaunite convoy pulled into Noxus and the main gates ground to a close. Riven looked on past Noxus and pas the ocean. She looked into the woods that sat atop mountains that stabbed out from the ocean floor and pierced the ocean and reached for the heavens. She looked at the makeshift camp and at the flickering fire and the woman that kept the blaze burning despite the vicious wind, and the other woman well-bundled up beside it. She looked at herself and woke up.

And then Riven woke up.

* * *

 _More is still coming._


	13. Reconcile

_In reverent memory of H, whose loss taught me the reality of ghosts._

* * *

The fire crackled and Riven's eyes followed sparks as they danced around the blaze. They burned with a piercing light, outdone only by the shadow of the void that took their place as they blinked out of existence. They shaped a sort of cycle, sparking and fading, sparking and fading, mesmerizing in their evanescence. Riven allowed them to distract her, taking her attention away from the other fire she knew would eventually demand her attention. The other fire burned coldly across from her, pressing at the limits of its own self-control; self-control that kept it from igniting into a furious wildfire.

Riven needed to approach that fire - its fury was an issue she was largely responsible for - but for now she was content to watch the calmer blaze spark and dance as she took the time to think. Cold fire had burnt her, and in the haze of pain and hate she'd fanned the flames brighter as though she could make it burn itself as well. Riven would never have called herself brilliant, but this was the first time she'd realized how fucking stupid she was. Noxus had instilled deep within her the art of following orders, but as a leader she'd been taught to think as well. To think was to make rational decisions and understand how and why things were happening - she wondered when she'd forgotten that. Now that she was capable of thinking and reflecting, she couldn't remember ever having truly thought in recent times. She just remembered lashing out as her emotions and own set beliefs dictated.

Her fists clenched. She was pathetic. If she was a paragon of Noxian ideals then it was no wonder they'd fallen so far. Swain's rise to power made so much more sense now. Thinking rationally, Swain rose by being the real paragon of Noxian values. Swain didn't corrupt Noxus; Swain was stronger than Noxus and so the whole nation became subservient to his power. It was everything Noxian at its purest. Riven's demonification of the man was hypocrisy at its finest. Swain had taken everything Riven loved and stood for, but he did so fairly. It was Noxian. It was clearer now. To restore the Noxus she loved she would need to follow in Swain's footsteps, become stronger than both Swain and his Noxus.

Jericho Swain was unarguably brilliant.

Riven was fucking stupid.

But she didn't need to be. She turned away from the sparking fire to face somebody stronger than she was.

"I lied," Riven admit.

Irelia accepted the admission wordlessly, and the pair sat in almost-silence as the fire between them snapped and burned. It cast faint shadows on the nearby foliage that flickered as the fire wavered, and Riven traced the motion with her eyes as time passed on quietly. The half-moon crept higher, tinting the shadows brighter almost imperceptibly.

"I was harsh," Irelia finally answered.

"You were honest," Riven argued.

"Unnecessarily."

Riven thought about her newfound clarity.

"Perhaps. Perhaps not."

"Stubborn Noxian," Irelia muttered.

Riven cracked a smile. "Would you have me any other way?"

Irelia looked at her. "You could stand to be less stubborn," she noted, though there was no venom in her words.

"Maintaining stubbornness is one of the most important parts of being Noxian," Riven assured her.

Irelia was quiet for a moment, and then she said: "You're not so Noxian anymore."

Riven disagreed. "My ideals are Noxian, through and through. But Noxus is no longer their paragon."

Irelia's gaze softened. "You're not who you once were."

Riven shrugged. The respect in the Ionian's eyes seemed far more important than her words. "I learned things." Riven stood up abruptly and made her way over to where their horses were tethered to a tree, grazing. Riven took the time to start adjusting the tack on her own mount, prepping it for a swift departure that wouldn't drop her kit everywhere.

"You want to leave now?" Irelia questioned. The distance of her voice told Riven she hadn't left her spot at the fire."

Riven glanced up. If the sky was any indication then it was still a ways off until dawn. "I… slept for a while already," Riven commented.

"You deserved it," Irelia said, rather sharply. Riven grimaced. That was fair enough.

"Well we're burning starlight. We might as well make up the distance. It'll get bright later."

"Irelia didn't say anything, but Riven heard her stand and noticed the drop in heat and light as she stifled the fire. They were off soon enough. Nothing was said between them, but the tension from before had dissipated and Riven was left with something else about Irelia to ponder. If only she could understand exactly what that was.

It was daylight when they came across the village. The village was like a scene out of the Noxian invasion. It was a small settlement, and the attack had utterly decimated it. No single structure still stood in even a semblance of structural soundness, and the entire area was entirely devoid of signs of life. Death hung in the air like a cloying smog, choking the atmosphere with the weight of its tragedy. In places, the ground was stained, dyed crimson by exorbitant splashes of blood. There were no bodies though, which bothered her. Riven wouldn't call herself knowledgeable about Ionian wyverns, but she didn't think one would be large or determined enough to carry an entire population's worth of people off to wherever it called home, nor did she think one would be gluttonous enough to devour an entire village's worth of people on the spot.

Irelia dismounted at the edge of the village, moving further inward on foot. Riven left her own mount beside the Ionia's as she stepped off herself. She didn't take the time to tether them; something about the whole journey sat poorly with her. The village felt too dead. Recent death had its own particular noxious scent. For a tragedy this recent, it should have been stifling. Her gaze flickered across the scene of destruction. There was no smoke, no dislodged rafters creaking under their own weight. Riven knew the sights and sounds of a decimated village. The scene before her didn't match up with her memories.

"Irelia?" she called out, hastening her pace to pull up alongside the Ionian. Irelia halted.

"It doesn't feel right, does it?" She remarked. Riven shook her head. "It took us a full day to ride here. I allowed myself to believe a dying child could have survived that run." She turned to face Riven, a pained smile stretched across her face. "Forgive me Riven - I believe I've had us both played for fools."

"I left the horses untethered. If we go now, we can probably leave."

Irelia's gaze hardened. "Fool or no, that child was real and this village was real; these people were real."

Much of Irelia yet mystified Riven, but in that moment Riven understood her well. This was a direct attack on her, her people used as the vessel. And balance would naturally dictate that for all the blood shed on this side, blood would spill on the other side in equal measure.

In the distance a piercing screech sliced through the air.

Another one followed.

And then another.

Riven gripped her runesword's handle tightly, bringing it to bear in front of her. The blade thrummed with anticipation.

* * *

 _Not a standout chapter by any means, but it takes us somewhere that should be very exciting._


End file.
